Holiday Anxiety & Grief

Originally Posted on my Facebook: November 25, 2018

I won’t sugarcoat it. These past few days have been incredibly difficult. Thanksgiving was my first big holiday without my mom. I had my kids with me earlier this week while we celebrated with my family in MP. We had a so much fun and everybody really got to spend quality time with one another. 

We also designed and bought a headstone for my mom. We met a realtor about listing her house. 

Tying lose ends. 

Things ending. 

More bitter than sweet, but still necessary.

I am blessed to have had multiple invitations to dinners on Thanksgiving Day, I turned down those invites to spend the day with my in-laws Mike & Cyndy , who were the first to offer me a place to go. A couple of my sisters-in-law came (I've got 5), and we had a nice meal and good conversation. 

I’ve spent thew two days since trying to relax and process.

I met with some friends for another dear friend’s birthday dinner. I had an anxiety attack before I left, but thanks to pep talks from Paul and one of my best friends-Jake- I was finally able to actually leave my house. I made it through the dinner without bursting into tears. 

It’s the little victories. 

I had another anxiety attack in my car before I left the restaurant. I stopped crying long enough to run in a gas station to load up on feel-good junk food before I attempted to drive home. Paul called and talked to me about the new Pokémon game, “Let’s Go, Eevee” until I got home. 

Where did all that anxiety come from? 

Grief has altered all my relationships. Friendships in particular have been strange this past year. It’s difficult to see lives going on when all you want is for your own life to go back to how it was. This is the time of year where we reminisce on the year before. For me, it’s been a year of loss, as well as all the feelings associated with that loss: pain, obviously, but also anger and, surprisingly, envy. 

I'm angry is at those who are still alive and taking it for granted. 

I’m angry with those who are reckless and thoughtless with other people’s feelings. 

I’m angry with those who complain about trivialities.

I realize my anger isn't, of course, actual anger at these people. 

My anger is rooted in envy. 

I find myself jealous of people with pregnancies and babies. Jealous of people with mothers. Jealous of people who get to see their significant others on a daily basis. And I’m jealous of people who can simply socialize or go to the movies or to dinner without running to the restroom or the car or the curb outside to wail and sob.

I’m not ignorant of my blessings. I’m aware of how much I have and how loved I am. 

I sometimes find it difficult to focus on those blessings, though. It’s like having a phantom pain, like learning to walk with a missing limb. I haven’t forgotten that all the rest of my limbs function, but I have to focus on learning how to walk again with what I have. 

To those who know and have been through something similar, to those who have reached out and sent messages of comfort and love, I’m so incredibly grateful for you. 

To those who have already forgiven me for forgetting to message on their birthdays, thank you. 

To those of you who have cried with me when grief erupted out of nowhere, thank you. 

To the ones who have messaged me on special occasions, like my birthday or Thanksgiving, or just randomly, like on a Tuesday afternoon, thank you. 

To the ones I’ve pushed away in my grief, who don’t know how to navigate these waters or who don’t know what to say, I’m sorry. 

I miss you, and I love you. Please keep trying. I'll return to a new normal eventually. 

This year (2018), I made a firm decision not to decorate for Christmas. 

No tree or stockings, no wreaths or mistletoe or tinsel. How could Christmas happen without my mother here? How could I celebrate through my anguish?

I thought I was doing myself a favor. 

Then, I remembered that I still needed to pick up Paul’s car from the airport. I enlisted my friend Cheryl for assistance. When I walked into her home, I stood face to face with bright, cheery Christmas decor. I knew it would make Cheryl happy, so I put the radio on Christmas music all the way to the airport. 

Somewhere between chestnuts roasting and Jack Frost nipping, despite my firm decision, I'd decided I’d just put up our tree. 

For the kids.

But that’s it. Nothing more.

I felt so good by the time I dropped Cheryl back at home, I had decided that I'd need to get a few things for the tree. Since that was all I planned to decorate. 

Kroger didn’t know what hit it when I decided to stop for “a few things.”

I went all out. Christmas exploded inside my house.

I decorated, a cheesy Christmas romance on The Hallmark Channel playing in the background. 

I felt an unwinding within me...

...something I hadn't felt in a year or more. 

Not healed, but healing.